


The Handomega's Tale

by LuthienLuinwe



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Nightwing (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: ABO, Angst, F/M, Fertility Crisis, Handmaid's Tale - Freeform, M/M, Omegaverse, Rebellion, Violence, hopelessness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-23
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-05-13 02:48:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14740614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuthienLuinwe/pseuds/LuthienLuinwe
Summary: His name was Ofslade. He had a different name, one from Before, but talking of Before was forbidden. Sometimes he forgot there was a Before. A time when he had been free and careless. Now, all that existed was Gilead. Now, all that mattered was his duty.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on The Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Atwood as well as the television adaptation.
> 
> I have never written an Omegaverse fic before, so I apologize for any errors.
> 
> Thank you to my Discord buddies for helping me with this! You guys are the best!

The light filtered in through his tiny window, illuminating his tiny room furnished only with a bed and a tin-foil mirror he couldn’t even see his reflection out of. The dust on his floor showed, tiny flecks of gray marking dark, cherry wood. The Commander would have a fit if he saw the state of those floors. Their Martha would get into trouble…

His name was Ofslade. He had a different name, one from Before, but talking of Before was forbidden. Sometimes he forgot there was a Before. A time when he had been free, had been off doing the usual twenty-seven-year-old things. He had friends, friends like Roy, now Ofjade, friends like Wally, who had been sent to the Colonies to die.

He had a wife, Kori, who had been able to escape back to her home along with their daughter, Mar’i. Sometimes, when he lay in his bed late at night, he could still hear her laughing, could still see her smiling and asking if they could go to the park that day.

Everything had been so simple back before the United States had fallen.

No.

The United States was from Before.

He could not think about Before.

The Crisis had been going on for decades. Omegas were disappearing rapidly. Most Betas were becoming infertile. The population was doomed to start dying out. Some had argued it already had. Alphas married Betas out of a need for companionship, nothing more.

Now only the strong, believing Betas were granted that honor.

He stepped out of the house, shopping list in hand, and met Oftalia at the gate. They were not permitted to walk the streets alone. It was too dangerous. Any number of things could happen to an Omega out on their own.

They had been brothers once. And he had been surprised the first time he saw Oftalia, dressed in beige with scars on his face and burns on his feet. He thought for sure he would have rebelled, would have been sent to the Colonies with the others. But he should have known better than to believe Gilead would send an Omega to their death so easily.

He didn’t want to think about what had happened to their other brother, to their sister. But each day, the memory flooded back. Cass being sent to the Colonies, sobbing, begging them not to let them take her away. But she had been a Beta. And she had been mute. And Gilead had no need for broken Betas. 

He could still see Tim’s body dangling from the rafters. They had hanged him. He was a scientist, openly defying God. Of course the Eyes couldn’t have let him continue on in his sinful ways, couldn’t risk that he would share his blasphemous knowledge with the rest of the community.

It wasn’t safe to act as though they knew one another from Before. And so when they had met again at the Red Center, they had acted as strangers. And it hurt every damn time he saw his face.

“Blessed be the fruit,” Oftalia spoke and walked alongside Ofslade.

“May the Lord open,” Ofslade responded, keeping his eyes forward on the road ahead. He ignored the buildings, the restored older American homes that had once belonged to families, maybe even happy ones, ones that had no doubt been torn apart by the war.

He could see Ofjade, whom he knew from Before, walking alongside Ofjack, a small, blonde female Ofslade knew almost nothing about. Before, Roy would have told him everything about anyone. Now, Roy was gone. Ofjade existed. Now, now the Omegas were too afraid to speak about anything.

“His mercy truly shines,” Oftalia spoke as they traveled along the sidewalk. Betas dressed in gray, the servants of this new world, glanced at them as they walked. “Ofjade is with child.”

Ofslade blinked but kept his face neutral. Before, he would have been among the first to know the news. Now, he was certain he was among the last. “Praise be.”

“Praise be,” Oftalia echoed and stepped into the shop.

* * *

He had tried to escape alongside Kori, something Ofslade was sure Ofroman knew nothing about. Mar’i had clung to his leg, had cried because she didn’t know what was going on. “All of the papers are in order,” Kori had thrown her hands in the air in frustration.

Dick picked Mar’i up and held her close. The representative from the Tameranean embassy had said there should be no problem getting out of the country. He should have said there would be no problem for Kori and Mar’i.

He should have known they would never let an Omega leave.

God they should have seen the end of the United States coming sooner. How had they missed the signs?

“Everything’s fine, sweetheart,” he kissed Mar’i’s forehead, wanting to hold onto her for the rest of his life. But he couldn’t. She and Kori needed to leave while they still could. They needed to get to safety. He could hold his own. “The child is yours?” the official had turned to face Dick.

“She is,” Dick nodded and held her more tightly. He’d been taking suppressants. Their contact had told him he would be more likely to get through security that way. But Kori screamed Alpha. And if she was an Alpha and they had a child…

How could they have overlooked that?

“And she is your natural child or your adopted child?”

He wanted to lie, to lie and escape with his family. But he would have been found out one way or another. The birth certificate would have given him away. He had heard the stories of those who had lied and been found out later. And he had seen the bodies hanging from the buildings when they were found out, had watched as they screamed and kicked and fought as they were dragged into windowless vans that would take them to their graves.

Mar’i had cried when Kori took her from him. And he had wanted to cry too, but he needed to stay strong for them, for all of them… “It’ll be okay,” he promised and hugged them one last time. “I’ll see you soon.”

He wished he were a better liar.

* * *

“You’re late,” Commander Wilson spoke as Ofslade entered into the residence. He liked to imagine a sweet, older couple once lived there. That they had the family over, maybe even had grandchildren to spend the night. He liked to think that children would slide down the bannisters. That laughter would fill the halls.

Now, of course, laughter was forbidden within the home, if one could call it a home. Things were to be taken seriously under Commander Wilson. And why should they not be? He was one of the highest ranking individuals within Gilead. Ofslade should have considered himself lucky to be placed in such a prestigious posting. “My apologizes, Commander,” he spoke, keeping his eyes down on the mahogany floor.

“Go to your room” the Alpha shook his head, and Ofslade kept his head down as he headed back up to his tiny, miserable room.

“You’re back then,” Adeline greeted, arms crossed over her dark blue dress. Dick had been hoping she would be out with the other wives, doing whatever it was they did to pass the time. Things always seemed to be better when they stayed out of each other’s paths, except on the occasions they were forced to be together.

“Yes, Mrs. Wilson,” Dick responded, keeping his eyes focused on the ground below him. 

“Get out of my site,” she shook her head, and Dick, obedient as always, left.

* * *

Jason lay beside him, moaning in pain. Dick and the others had tried to get him to quiet, but nothing was working. They had all admired Jason for trying to run away. Now he was their cautionary tale. Bright red burns covered his feet. He wouldn’t be walking on his own for days, if not weeks.

Dick crouched down beside him once the others had left for their class. “I need you to listen to me, Jay,” he whispered. Green eyes, once so full of life and energy, had become dull and dead. “We’re going to get out of this mess. Both of us. But for now I need you to keep your head down and your mouth shut, got it?”

Jason nodded in reply.

Dick just wished he could stop making promises he couldn’t keep.

He helped support his once-brother and half-dragged him into the classroom. They didn’t have much time before they would be late. And the last thing Jason needed was more punishment from their dear Uncle Roman. 

That day’s lesson was on the Ceremony, the part they were all dreading about their new assignments. Dick wondered how the new Commanders had ever gotten their spouses on board with such a thing in the first place. He had been partnered with Roy, who lay on his back, the back of his head resting between Dick’s legs. Dick held his wrists, more gently than he was sure any of the Wives would.

‘This is bullshit,’ Roy mouthed to him, and Dick shot him a glare. “Something wrong, boys?” Roman questioned and approached the pair. Dick felt his muscles tense, and he kept his gaze straight-forward.

“Of course not, Uncle Roman,” he said in perfect unison with Roy.

“I thought not.” Even behind the mask, he could still see the smirk.

* * *

One day, all of this will seem normal. Dick could still hear Roman’s voice echoing through his head as he stared up at the ceiling. It had been a lie to keep some of the more hysterical ones at the Red Center calm. The ones like Dick knew better and always would. None of it was normal. None of it would ever be normal. But after a few generations, no one would know any different.

They were just the unlucky bastards who happened to be in the beginning.


	2. Blessed Are The Meek

He was an adulterer. The word may as well have been branded into his skin. He hadn’t known. He’d only been married once. But when he had tried to leave the country again, the Guardian had told him such. Someone had reported him. He was an adulterer who deserved to go to hell, but by the grace of God, he would be granted a second chance. He should have counted himself lucky to be allowed such a privileged position. If Uncle Roman had had more of a say in it, Dick would have been dangling next to Tim on the wall.

His back was red and raw and torn open, and he doubted he would be able to go on the twice-daily walks he and the others were required to take. He lay on his side on the cold, hard ground, arms tied behind his back. They couldn’t risk him running away like his flight-risk brother, after all. 

“Whose fault was it?” he could see Uncle Roman pacing back and forth, cattle prod in hand. Dick gritted his teeth. He’d be damned before he played into Roman’s little games. But he couldn’t keep from crying out when the shocks kept coming. “Whose. Fault. Was. It?”

He knew the words. They’d been ingrained in all the others’ heads from the moment they stepped foot into the Red Center. Three quick, painless phrases and he could go back to the new everyday life. He’d never call it normal. “My fault.”

Zap. The shock came to his raw back, making him scream. “Who caused you to be in this mess?”

Dick watched Uncle Roman rose the prod, watched as the man smirked and waited for a response. “I did,” he choked out.

“And why did God allow such a terrible thing to happen?”

“Teach me a lesson.”

* * *

“No,” he whimpered when he woke to the toll of the bells, face flushed, skin warm to the touch. He was supposed to have a few more days. He was supposed to have enough time to try and figure a way out. He groaned and rolled out of bed, carefully putting his red robes on. Maybe he could hide it…

Not likely.

“Ah, blessed morning,” Slade grinned when he stepped into the kitchen. 

“Blessed morning,” he echoed, keeping his eyes down at the hardwood floor. It was easier to pretend like he didn’t exist. Like this was all some nightmare he’d wake up from. That one morning, his eyes would open and Kori would be at his side asking what he’d been dreaming about and Mari would be pulling him out of bed asking if they could go to the park.

“See to it the Martha has you bathe,” Slade glanced down at the papers he had been looking over. Most Commanders saved that for their office. But Slade liked to rub it in Ofslade’s face. Slade could read and Ofslade couldn’t. Even Adeline couldn’t. “You know I like for you to be clean.”

“Of course, sir,” Ofslade nodded and grabbed his shopping list from their Martha. For a moment, he wondered if he could get away with running. But someone would catch him. Someone always caught them.

The world had gone to hell, and he was stuck there in it.

The water was already drawn when he returned. He’d forgotten the eggs. Mrs. Wilson would be angry over that, and she was already in enough of a bad mood. She had ignored him as he walked past her sitting room, never a good sign. Her silence was always worse than her words.

He sat in the tub and let his head slip under the water. For a moment, just for a moment, he wished he could never come back up. But he had to. He needed to escape and find a way back to Kori and Mar’i. Where had they gone? Did they think of him?

Did they think he was already dead?

* * *

He was knelt on the floor, facing Slade. His knees hurt and he was exhausted and he just wanted to go to bed. But they only had a limited amount of time for the Ceremony to be of any use. From the corner of his eye, he could see Adeline, arms crossed, glaring daggers at him. God, he hated her. Almost as much as he hated Slade. It wasn’t like he wanted any of this to be happening.

“And Rachel said unto Jacob, give me children or else I die,” Slade spoke, and Ofslade kept himself from rolling his eyes from the irony. This was his last chance. If he couldn’t conceive, he would be declared an Unperson and sent to the Colonies. He wondered if Cass was still alive. He liked to hope she was, even though he doubted she could have survived that long.

He followed the Wilsons to their room, easily twice the size of his own. It even had a chandelier. He lay between Adeline’s legs and hissed when she dug her nails into his wrists, hard enough to draw blood. She always seemed to sharpen them just before each heat. He didn’t doubt she would discuss the events with her fellow wives the next morning. ‘The slut,’ he could hear her sneer. ‘Enjoyed every minute of it, I’m sure. I just hope this time worked. But you know how they can be when they’re finally with child…’

He kept his eyes open. He knew better than to close them. All it did was upset Slade. And upsetting Slade never ended well for Ofslade. The last time, he’d threatened to complain to Uncle Roman. And Uncle Roman would see Dick shipped off to the Colonies before he could blink.

He tried to focus on his breathing. Deep breaths. In and out. They would never see the full extent of his hate. Or his fear. Jason had tried to tutor him in history once. It had never been Dick’s strongest subject. There was one quote he always seemed to remember, though. 

Close your eyes and think of England.

God he wished he could close his eyes.

* * *

They all sat in a circle, Roy in the middle. The fight had long been drained out of most of them by that point. Uncle Roman kept an eye on them. He was leaned against the wall, but Dick had no doubt the man could take any of them down in a matter of seconds if they stepped out of line. “Tell them what you did.”

“I lost a child,” Roy shut his eyes, and Dick had never hated Roman more than he did in that moment. Roy had been devastated when he’d miscarried, and Dick and Jason had had to pick up the pieces. He watched as Roman approached Roy, watched as the redhead convulsed when a shock hit his shoulder. “I killed a child.”

“Who killed the innocent gift from God?”

“He did. He did. He did,” they chanted and pointed. And Dick hated that he let himself participate. But at least it was Roy in the middle, not himself. It was easier to distance things that way. And God, at least it hadn’t been Jason, even though Jason would have understood. They had to do what they had to do to survive.

“And whose fault was it?”

“His fault. His fault. His fault.”

“And why did God allow such a terrible thing to happen?”

“Teach him a lesson. Teach him a lesson. Teach him a lesson.”

“Teach us all a lesson,” Roman placed a hand on Roy’s shoulder, and Dick felt sick when Roy didn’t even flinch away. He’d been the most argumentative and hard-to-break of all of them. And yet there he was, taking their comments and Roman’s punishments. “Children are sacred gifts. You are all sinners. Terrible, terrible sinners. But you can redeem yourselves by bringing new life into this world.”

“Praise be,” Dick echoed with the rest of them. He could see Jason, silent, jaw set. 

“Is there a problem?” Roman approached, and Dick wanted to jump in front of him, protect him from being hurt further.

“It wasn’t his fault,” Jason spoke, and Dick wished he could have screamed at him not to be such a damned idiot and to just do what he was told.

He flinched when he heard Roman’s hand crack against Jason’s skin. But he had to give his brother credit. He hadn’t flinched away. And he hadn’t closed his eyes. “Blessed are the meek, boy.”


	3. My Fault

Blessed be the fruit,” Oftalia jumped when his shopping partner approached the gate. He hadn’t been paying attention. Why should he have? Crimes against Handomegas were punishable by death. But that didn’t mean they didn’t still happen. Hell, he’d nearly been killed by his last Commander, not that Ofslade would ever know about that. He didn’t need to. Ofjack had been replaced.

“May the Lord open,” Oftalia responded and carefully gathered his shopping basket in his arms. He glanced at the tokens his Martha had given him. Eggs. Oranges. Chicken. He hoped the shop would have oranges. They hadn’t the last time the Wife had requested them, and he’d suffered the consequences of his wrath. It hadn’t been Oftalia’s fault. He couldn’t control what the store ordered. But that didn’t mean he didn’t get punished for it anyway.

It was rare for them to want meat. Commander al Ghul never ate it. It was good for the baby, the Wife had said. Good for the… He paused and felt the color drain from his cheeks as he glanced over at Ofslade, who seemed to be off in his own little world.

Ofslade didn’t know.

Ofslade wouldn’t find out for as long as possible if Oftalia had any say in it. He would blame himself. He would worry too much and insist that he do everything for Oftalia. Oftalia didn’t need that. He needed something that at least resembled normalcy. Though God knew Commander al Ghul would only keep their Blessed Miracle a secret for so long. 

“We’ve been sent good weather,” Ofslade commented. It was terrifying, how quickly the man Oftalia had once known as a brother had broken. Jason had fought and ran and kicked and screamed. Dick had just seemed to accept it and move on.

“Praise be,” he responded and focused on the sidewalk. It was his fault Ofslade was in this mess in the first place. _My fault. My fault. My fault._ He could never find out. He’d hate Oftalia forever, maybe even longer.

He frowned when he saw the scratch marks on Ofslade’s wrists. Commander Wilson’s wife must have been harsh with him again. The Wives were supposed to be gentle creatures. But all the Handomegas knew otherwise. They could have reported her. Maybe they should have reported her. But who would the Eyes believe? The respected wife of a high-ranking commander or two sinners trying to redeem themselves in the eyes of God?

* * *

“You’re leaving us,” Jason crossed his arms and glared at the man he had once called a father. He’d found out when Alfred had let it slip. Bruce was leaving. And he hadn’t mentioned a damned word about it to Jason or Tim or Cass. He wondered if Bruce had told Dick. Surely he would have told his favorite child, taken him with him…

“It’s your best bet at eventually getting out,” Bruce had snapped, and Jason hated the sinking feeling in his gut that he knew Bruce was right. Because how could he be? Bruce was getting out, and he was leaving them behind. What hope was going to be left for them then? At least with an Alpha they stood a chance, especially an Alpha with as much pull as Bruce Wayne.

But Gilead would never let him or Dick leave, not when Dick had already produced a healthy offspring. Not when Jason had had a confirmed pregnancy in the past, even if it had been terminated early on.

“You’re leaving us,” he repeated, trying to keep the hurt out of his voice, even though he knew some still slipped through. “They’ll kill Tim and Cass. And they’ll kill Dick for rebelling too.”

“Report him,” Bruce responded, and Jason felt the blood boil in his veins. Bruce knew what would happen to Dick, what would happen to Jason. Everyone did. “Report him and he’ll be safe until I can get you two out of this mess.”

“I won’t do that to him,” Jason shook his head. He wasn’t going to damn his brother to that kind of a life. He wasn’t going to live with that kind of guilt. But if he reported Dick for God-only-knew what, Dick would live. It would be a hell of a life, but he’d still live… If Jason said nothing, the Guardians would kill his brother without a second thought. He shut his eyes tightly and took a deep, shaky breath. “For what?”

“Adultery,” Bruce answered, and Jason watched as Bruce finished zipping his suitcase. “They can't prove it, but he can't disprove it either.”

* * *

“We haven’t had weather quite this nice in some time,” Oftalia commented as he rummaged through the produce. The wife would be displeased if he did not find the best of the selection. He wouldn’t have shame come upon his house again. It wasn’t Oftalia’s fault that Commander Queen’s wife threw a better party. But he’d been blamed for it anyway.

_My fault. My fault. My fault._

“We are truly blessed,” Ofslade responded. Oftalia thought he could see marks on his shopping partner’s wrists, marks that should not have been there. If Commander Wilson had hurt him… No. He couldn’t think like that. It wasn’t like they could do anything anyway.

Who would Gilead believe?

A high-ranking Commander?

Or a child-murderer and an adulterer?

He heard the siren and he felt his blood run cold. He glanced at Ofslade from the corner of his eye, watched as Ofslade set his basket down and knelt to the ground. Oftalia hesitated before following. It couldn’t be happening. Nothing was wrong, he tried to tell himself, even though he knew it was a lie. Modern medicine was only used for three things: injured commanders, sick babies, and high-risk pregnancies.

It could only have been for one person.

The city that had once been Gotham hadn’t seen a birth in months.

And only one other Handomega was currently with child. “They’ll send him to the colonies,” Oftalia said from the corner of his mouth.

“Quiet,” Ofslade hissed.

Oftalia watched as the ambulance swerved through the traffic, blue and red lights flashing. When would the Eyes come to send Ofjade away, Oftalia wondered. Surely it wouldn’t be long.

Miscarriages didn’t happen. They weren’t acts of God. They were the result of sinful Handomegas who needed to be punished.

It seemed an eternity before he stood.

* * *

_Murderer._

_Gender traitor._

_My fault. My fault. My fault._

He was chained down and he glared at Uncle Roman as he paced back and forth. He’d tried to break free, more than once, but nothing would give. God, why hadn’t he tried to make a break for it? Others had, and as far as Jason knew they’d gotten away with it too. He never should have trusted Bruce would get him and Dick out of that mess. “And here I thought we were past the running phase, Ofjack.”

Jason glared and fought back the urge to spit at him. It would only make things worse for him in the end. “My name is Jason,” he said with a growl that came from deep in his throat. 

He’d been stupid for trying to run. Commander Napier had beaten him within an inch of his life. Ofjack should have been a good little Handomega and reported him to the Eyes. But Jason had run. “You see, Jason will be sent to the Colonies to remove radioactive waste until Jason dies.” Jason pulled at the chains again. 

He wanted to say he didn’t care, that anything would be better than the hell he’d been forced to live in. But he’d heard horror stories of the Colonies. And there was no way in hell Bruce would ever be able to find him there. If Bruce ever came for them at all. “Who?”

“Commander al Ghul,” Uncle Roman answered and moved uncomfortably close to Jason. “Oftalia has a nice ring to it, does it not?” He glared, but kept his mouth shut. Had he not been one of Roman’s favorite people to toy with, Jason knew he would already be well on his way to hard labor. “Whose fault was this?”

“My…” Jason started to say and cried out when Uncle Roman hit him, harder than he needed to.

“Oftalia did nothing wrong,” the older man shook his head. “Jason Todd kidnapped Ofjack. Commander al Ghul was nice enough to agree to rehabilitate him. Whose fault was this?”

He shut his eyes tightly and took a long, shaky breath. “Jason’s fault.” My fault. I’m Jason. My fault.

“Who kidnapped the Handomega?”

“Jason did.”

“And why did God allow such a terrible thing to happen?”

“Teach Jason a lesson.”


	4. Let the Little Children Come to Me

Unomega.

It had been just weeks prior that Oftalia and Ofslade had attended the baby shower for the wife of Commander Nguyen. Oftalia had never been to one before. Commander Napier had never permitted him to leave, save for his daily walks to do the shopping for the house. He had been so thrilled just to get a chance at something new, something exciting, something that was supposed to be happy.

He wondered what his own shower would be like.

No. Not his. Commander al Ghul's wife. The child wouldn't be his, even though he was the one carrying it. Even though it had half of his DNA. None of his children would ever be his.

Jason shut his eyes and placed a hand on his stomach. It was still too early to feel movement. If he thought about it, he could imagine the little one, what he or she would grow up to be like. With any lucky, it wouldn't be an omega. He didn't wish that life on anyone.

And Rachel said unto Jacob give me children or else I die.

It wasn't a request for them, not anymore.

It was a threat.

And Ofjade had miscarried and Ofjade would pay the price. It was an act of God, Uncle Roman had said. Ofjade was a sinner who must have done something horrible for such a thing to happen.

Whose fault was it?

His fault. His fault. His fault.

And Ofjade had been declared an Unomega and sent to the Colonies to die, and it was all so unfair and all so fucked up, but Oftalia dare not raise his voice about the situation for fear of facing a similar fate. You see, Jason will stay chained here until Jason gives birth. Oftalia has an opportunity.

Roy had deserved better than that.

And Jason tried to tell himself he didn't care. He couldn't afford to care, to show any emotion. He wasn't a person. Not anymore. He existed for one purpose and one person alone, and no one was ever going to let him forget that for the rest of his life.

His fault. His fault. His fault.

* * *

"I can't believe we're actually doing this," Jason had said and squeezed Roy's hand tightly. They'd finally found an Alpha willing to provide for them, willing to let them have their own miracle. And Roy was adamant it had worked. He'd skipped a heat. It should have worked. God, they were going to be parents.

It was so exciting Jason could hardly contain himself. Two omegas having a child. What more could they have asked for?

Roy had gone into labor early. The doctor hadn't believed him. Lian Harper had been born with several complications, and Roy was warned that he would have trouble ever giving birth again. But what did it matter? The birth rate was dropping, and yet they'd done it. They had their little miracle.

An Omega like them. Her life would be hard, harder than most had it, but she was theirs. She was all theirs.

_And the child is healthy?_

_Yes._

_And which Omega gave birth?_

_The redhead.Make a note of that._

* * *

He could still see Ofjade knelt before Commander Nguyen's spouse. He could still see Uncle Roman wrapping the woven red and blue cords together, red for the Handomega, blue for the spouse. He could still see Roy's hands between the woman's as she spoke. "Let the little children come to me. Let the little children come to me. Let the little children come to me."

Oftalia and the others had stood in a circle surrounding the Wives. Couldn’t have them intermingling, after all. What respectable Wife would want to be seen with a filthy Handomega? They were sinners. Dirty. They needed to redeem themselves the only way they could… He could already imagine what they would be saying the next day. _Wasn't the shower so wonderful? The Nguyens are truly blessed. His mercy shines bright on them._

He could already imagine how the conversation between Ofjade and Commander Nguyen went at the hospital. _You little slut. You cost me a promotion. You cost me everything._

Who did this?

He did. He did. He did.

“He’s strong,” Ofslade had told them as they took the long way home, walking past the river and the wall where new bodies were strung up. A gender traitor. A doctor. Two nuns. He wondered if any of them had been Omegas too. He doubted it. Gilead wouldn’t let too many of them get away.

Strong meant nothing but a slower death for Roy.

God, Jason hoped it would be quick.

* * *

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

Jason sat on the ground, Dick sat behind him, his legs out to match Jason’s. They needed practice, Uncle Roman had told them.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

Hold. Hold. Hold.

It was unnatural. It was sick. The Wives wouldn’t be the ones giving birth. Why did they feel the need to pretend to? It’s better for their wellbeing. A mother should experience all the joys of childbirth, after all. All of the joys? Roy had nearly died having their daughter. 

God, what had happened to Lian? To Mar’i? To Damian?

He could still see Lian screaming as she was taken away from them. Off to more fit parents, the Guardians had said, ones who weren’t gender traitors, ones who could raise her to be a proper Wife one day. Wouldn’t that be grand? A Wife who could bear children of her own?

It had nearly destroyed Roy.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

Push. Push. Push.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

“Wonderful job, boys,” Roman had said as he paced back and forth, correcting each future Handomega’s form as they did. Jason resisted the urge to look down. If he looked down, he would see the mark on his ankle forever marking him as Gilead’s property. Handomega 332. No longer Jason. Just a number. Soon barely a name, changing with each posting.

Like it was a job he’d take willingly. That is what you will tell any foreign dignitaries.

Always boys and girls. Never men or women. Men and women didn’t commit unforgivable crimes. Men and women didn’t need to redeem themselves. Boys and girls did.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

Push. Push. Push.

* * *

“Blessed be the fruit,” Commander al Ghul greeted when he stepped into the house, removing the wings that kept the rest of the world from seeing him and that kept him from seeing the rest of the world. _Terrible things happened to Omegas in the time Before,_ he could still hear Uncle Roman telling them. _These keep you safe. We are here to keep you safe._

“May the Lord open,” he muttered in response, turning to face her. She was high-ranking, had been one of the formers of Gilead. Her prestige resided on him carrying a healthy child to term. He wouldn’t forget that. Oftalia has an opportunity…

“I’m sorry to hear about your friend,” she said, placing a hand on his shoulder. No, she wasn’t supposed to touch him, not outside of the Ceremony, not outside of feeling the baby kick or move… And sorry about his friend? She had been one of the ones to create the laws that damned him.

“Fuck you,” he spat, unable to contain the rage boiling in his veins.

He barely even flinched when she slapped him, nails digging into his face and drawing blood, one of the few punishments a Commander could use against a pregnant handomega. Stress is bad for the baby, Talia, he wanted to say, but kept his mouth shut instead. “I am willing to excuse that on the hormones. Go to your room.”

He shut his eyes and took a shaky breath before making his way up the stairs, shutting his door behind him. Plain bed. Closet with his red outfits hanging in it. Window that wouldn’t open all the way.

Why did God allow such a terrible thing to happen?

Teach him a lesson. Teach him a lesson. Teach him a lesson.


End file.
